


my slumbering heart

by enmity



Category: Tales of Phantasia, Tales of Series
Genre: F/M, Gen, in-game, pre-res because it's the only thing i know how to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmity/pseuds/enmity
Summary: “It’s just too bad your First Aid can’t cure colds, huh?”





	my slumbering heart

**Author's Note:**

> i skimmed thru the top lp like so fast but anyway. chester somehow catches a cold during the freezekiel part of the game and mint looks after him (u_u) thats the fanfic
> 
> i'm sorry i tried so hard to make it uwu but like every single thing i write it gets weirdly sad towards the end

When Chester comes to, the first thing he sees is _her_.

Okay, back up. Let’s try this again.

He wakes up, blinking twice at the ceiling, and the inn’s cheap mattress shifts beneath his weight as he rubs at his eyes. His head’s pounding and it’s freezing and he’s thinking about going back under the blankets to sleep it off, but that’s when he catches sight of the girl bent over by his side, and for a few seconds his brain just kind of… short-circuits, or fritzes, or whatever. Whatever.

There’s a press of damp cloth against his forehead, and all remaining thoughts of drowsiness slip away in an instant, replaced by the sudden and uncontrollable urge to just drop into a deep, dark hole and stay there—because waking up to Mint being in such startlingly close proximity is _definitely_ not something Chester ever thought to mentally prepare for.

“Where’s Cless?” he asks groggily, clutching at the sheets, because 1) he’s a massive idiot, 2) he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her without Cless, and if he were here then he’d know what to do, and—

3) have her eyes ever been so blue?

4) wait, why did he notice that?

Chester coughs. His nose is clogging up. It's the cold; it's obviously the cold. Mint’s smile is placid, but he’s about 65% sure she’s secretly freaked out right now.

“He went to go stock up on gels with Arche just a few moments ago,” she says. “He was very worried about you, you see? Told me to stay back and watch over you in case you needed anything.”

“Um,” he concentrates very hard on not sneezing (gross), and suddenly the pieces fall in place. His face contorts, something like guilt or maybe disappointment dissolving into sourness in his mouth. “Oh, man. He didn’t carry me all the way back here, did he?”

“Oh, but he did. I was rather surprised,” Mint says, and stifles a shy laugh with her knuckles; small and dainty and the color of unblemished paper, and it is those very hands made for healing that’s saved them with a timely recovery arte more times than he can count. He wouldn’t have expected such quiet resolve to come from her if he hadn’t been there to witness it himself. “No one expected you to just fall over in the middle of town like that. The weather might have something to do with it, but it seems you have been pushing yourself rather hard.”

“Yeah… I guess I have.” He glances away. The early evening sky stretches outside the window, a dulled sort of lavender. “I should apologize for holding you guys back. Getting sick at a time like this… Arche would never live it down. Thanks for looking after me, Mint.”

“Ah, it’s-” She looks at her lap, pale eyes flicking down, “It’s nothing, really. It’s my duty to keep everyone healthy, is it not? I’m disappointed I didn’t notice sooner…”

“You don’t need to feel bad. Just a good night’s rest or two and I’ll be on my feet in no time!” he reassures, and tries to smile even as his throat stings. “It’s just too bad your First Aid can’t cure colds, huh?”

Mint stammers, “Y-Yes! That is quite unfortunate!”

“I’m just kidding.”

“I do mean it, you know,” she says, voice hushed. “You should’ve told us you weren’t feeling well.”

Chester shrugs, “It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. I thought… if I insisted on resting, I would’ve been a burden on the others.”

“But you got too sick to fight anyway,” Mint reminds him, expression layered with concern. A shadow catches her eyes, fading the blue into a duller shade. For a second she looks upset, almost, and his gaze pauses at the line of her shoulders, the way it quivers when she says, “I’m just glad it wasn’t in the middle of a battle…”

“You’re a bit of a worrywart, aren’t you?” He tries to go for lighthearted but he can’t completely conceal the irritation bleeding into his voice – irritation at himself, of course, because when it all comes down to it, she’s right. And when it all comes down to it, he’s always been stubborn.

“I’m afraid I can’t help it.” After a moment, “May I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah?”

“Right before Morrison sent me and Cless to the past…” her voice trails, “Just as the spell enveloped us, I looked over my shoulder – and I saw you, Chester. Just lying there.” She shakes her head fiercely, guiltily, “I couldn’t do a thing. I was too weak.”

“And?” he says, even as he shivers at her words, and he can’t be sure if it’s because of the cold or because – because… “You two fixed things up. You went back in time and made things right. Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Yes,” Mint says, arms folded, “but that doesn’t change that I watched you die, once.”

He’s silent for a while after that.

“Hey,” Chester says. “Hey, Mint, it’s okay. I mean… I’m here, aren’t I? Isn’t that what counts?”

Her gaze softens. “Yes,” she whispers, and there is a sadness beneath her smile and the pale blue of her eyes, flickering a half-second before she blinks it away and pretends, for his sake, to be convinced. “I suppose you are.”

“I’m not going to leave. I can’t afford to. For Ami and the others who were killed…”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just felt I had to say it.” Her mouth forms a line. “Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“It’s okay,” he repeats, even as his voice strains to form the word. “Really.”

He starts coughing then, a sudden itch crawling up his dry throat, and Mint gets up, fingers clutched around her white dress-skirt. “I should go get you something to drink,” she says. “Something warm? Would tea be good?”

“Thanks, Mint.” Something knots up in his chest as he says her name. “That- that’d be good.”

His head feels light just then, and he isn’t certain of what to blame for that, either. The girl’s footsteps fade into the hallway outside, and he spends a long time staring at the dim ceiling – unsure if this emotion is something he is allowed to give a name to. To define and let take root and watch grow into something else entirely. 

It's odd; he can count on one hand the number of times he's had to think this hard before making a decision.

(but her eyes were so blue and so bright and she didn’t deserve to look so sad for his sake)

Chester sighs, turns on his side, and decides to stare at the spot where Mint had just stood instead.


End file.
